The Bedtime Story
by JoJo1
Summary: See the title and draw your own conclusions


**Archiving**: Dolphin Haven. Or ask perhaps...   
**Disclaimer**: Nope, not mine today either. Not a single thing.   
**Feedback**: What's that? Oh, that. By all means.   
**Setting**: Several years after the movie. Ten or so I'd say.   
**Authors notes**: Well, a small birthday fic. Dedicated to the Holy Three ;-) Namely, the lists one year anniversary and Karen and Alison's birthdays this week. Happy birthday to all of you! And I let you know, this is all Autumn's fault. She has some mean bunnies to throw your way...beware of them is all I can say. But I think it mutated somewhere along the way...and yeah, the title sucks. And sorry - but I couldn't resist inserting a little cameo here...And I'm cheating a little with the bedtime story in the fic. It's a native american bedtime story I stole from a website. I just couldn't think of a good bedtime story to tell. Sorry about that. 

* * *

"No! I refuse to do this this. It just won't happen."   
"Come on Logan. Don't be such a baby. It won't kill you."   
"Storm, I'm the Wolverine. Not the babysitter." 

The choice of name should have tipped Ororo off that Logan was serious. He never called her Storm unless they were on a mission or he was seriously pissed off or annoyed. Off-duty it was always 'ro or Ororo. 

Of course, even if she would have thought about his choice in name she wouldn't have let that bother her. She knew Logan inside and out after all these years and knew that he would never intentionally hurt anyone living at the mansion, no matter how gruff or impatient or prone to violence he could be. 

Marie, Scott, Jean, Charles, Jubes, Kitty and everyone else was the only thing resembling friends and family Logan had ever had and he cherished them all from the very bottom of his heart. His rough manners was just a charade and they all knew it. 

"Logan, you're not getting out of this. Everybody else is occupied and you're the one that promised to fight Magneto single-handedly if you had to so me and Cap could have our anniversary away from the mansion and duties." 

Cap was the nickname of Ororo's husband. They'd been married for 7 years now, much to Logan's surprise. He had always thought Ororo to be too restless to settle down and get married. But he liked the guy. Who could avoid liking someone with the sense of humour to call himself Captain Average? 

Their daughter had just recently turned five years old, just a few weeks ago. The daughter Ororo insisted Logan should babysit. 

Not that Logan didn't love the little ankle-biter. He did, as if she had been his own daughter. He just didn't think he was all that good with children. 

But what could he do? A determined Ororo Munroe is not easily fought off, especially not when he had promised something. 

"Fine, 'ro. You win. I babysit your little Aurora. But this is a one-time-thing only. And don't blame me if I corrupt her." 

Ororo just smiled back at him before kissing him on the cheek and saying "Thank you Logan! I knew I could count on you." 

A few hours later Logan felt like he had made a serious mistake the day he made that promise. Fighting Magneto seemed like an easy promise to keep in comparison to taking care of the little brat, eh child, Ororo had. Jubilee in her more wild moments had absolutely no energy whatsoever. It was like all her energy had somehow been stolen by Aurora the day she was born. 

But the worst was yet to come. Which Logan came to understand quite thoroughly a few hours later when he was doing his best to get Aurora ready for bed. 

He didn't quite understand how it happened but in one way or the other Aurora managed to talk him into telling her a bedtime story. And one of those kiddies book Ororo had bought for her didn't do either. No, he had to think of a _new_ one. Spoiled brat. 

"Please, uncle Logan?" 

Oh, damn. That kid was as good as Marie to make him do whatever she pleased. 

Damn, damn, damn. And then some more damns just for good measure. 

Then he thought of something. A story he had once heard on one of his many endless travels across the states. A very fitting story too. 

"Okay, little one. This is the perfect story for you." Logan said and began his story. 

_**Long, long ago, the Hopis were greatly troubled by the" wind. It blew and blew and blew and blew--all the time. The Hopis planted their crops, but before the seeds could begin to sprout, the wind blew the soil and seeds away. Unhappy and worried, all the people made prayer offerings of many kinds. But they accomplished nothing. **_

The old men held councils in their kivas. They smoked their pipes prayerfully and asked one another, "Why do the gods turn such strong winds upon us?" After a while, they decided to ask for help from the "Little Fellows" who were the two little War Gods, two of the five grandsons of Spider Woman. 

"Why did you ask us to come?" was their first question. 

"We need your help," answered the old men. "Something must be done to the Wind." 

"We will see what we can do for you," said the Little Fellows. "You stay here and make many more prayer offerings." 

The Hopis make many kinds of prayer offerings--as many as there are prayers, and there are prayers for every occasion in life and death. They are reverently fashioned of various types of feathers, carved and painted sticks, and hand-spun cotton yarn. 

The Little Fellows went first to their wise old grandmother, Spider Woman. They asked her to make some sweet cornmeal mush for them to take along on a journey. Of course they knew who the Wind God was and knew that he lived over near Sunset Mountain in the big crack of the black rock. 

When Spider Woman had the cornmeal mush ready, the Little Fellows came back to the kiva where the men were holding their council. The prayer offerings were ready and also the ball that the Little Fellows like to take with them wherever they went. They liked to play catch with it. 

The men made bows and arrows for them to take on their journey which seemed much like going on a war party. The arrows were tipped with bluebird feathers, thought to be more powerful than any other kinds of feathers. 

The two Little Fellows started toward the San Francisco Peaks. The old men went along until they reached the Little Colorado River, and there they sat down and smoked their pipes. The smoking of tobacco among the Hopis, as among many other tribes, is strictly ceremonial. The sacred smoke carried the prayers of the Hopis to their Gods. 

Continuing their journey, the two Little Fellows played catch- ball from time to time. On the fourth day they reached the home of the Wind God who lived at the foot of Sunset Crater, in a big crack in the black rock. There he breathed through the crack, as he does to this day. The Little Fellows threw the prayer offerings into the crack and hastily put their old grandmother's sticky cornmeal mush into and over the crack, and thus sealed the Wind God's door. Phew--he became very angry, so angry that he blew and blew and blew, but could not get out. The Little Fellows laughed and laughed and then went home, feeling very proud of themselves and of what they had done. 

But after a while, the people in the villages began to feel very hot. Every day the weather became hotter and hotter. People came out of their homes and stood on housetops to look toward the San Francisco Peaks, to see if any clouds were coming their way. But they did not see even a wisp of a cloud, and they seemed not to feel a breath of air. They thought they would suffocate. 

"We must do something right away," everyone said or thought. So the men made some more prayer offerings and called the two Little Fellows again. "Please go back to the House of the Wind God at once and tell him that there must be peace between us. Then give him these prayer offerings and let him out. This heat is much worse than the wind." 

The Little Fellows replied, "We will go and see what we can do with the Wind God to make life more comfortable for you." 

After four days, they arrived at the House of Yaponcha--the House of the Wind God. The Little Fellows decided that the wisest thing to do would be to let the Wind God have a small hole open--just enough to let him breathe through but not enough for him to come out of the crack in the black rock. 

So they took a little of the cornmeal mush out of the crack. Immediately, a nice cool breeze came out and a small white cloud appeared. It floated over across the desert toward the Hopi villages. 

When the Little Fellows reached home, everyone was pleased. The Hopis have been grateful to the Little Fellows ever since. The winds have been perfect--just strong enough to keep the people happy but not strong enough to blow everything away. 

Every since then, every year in the windy month of March, the chiefs and the high priests of the three villages on the Second Mesa give prayer offerings to the Wind God, Yaponcha." 

When Logan had said the last word, he noticed that Aurora was sound asleep, and with a smile on her face. She must have liked the story Logan thought to himself as he snuck out of her bedroom. And he couldn't help but wonder if she had liked it because of the reference to a Wind God - like her mother. That had been the intention anyway. 

Outside he ran into Ororo and Cap on their way back home, Ororo almost ready to burst with laughter. 

"What?" Logan asked.   
"I will never believe you when you say you have no hands with children anymore. She's never fallen asleep this early before. You can babysit her at any time." 

The ***thunk*** that could be heard was a man with an adamantium laced skeleton hitting the floor. 


End file.
